


Disquiet

by zephyras13



Series: Exiles [6]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Depression, Drabble Collection, F/M, Powerlessness, Present Tense, Romantic Friendship, Roommates, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-31 17:39:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephyras13/pseuds/zephyras13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Concerned friends only make things worse and Rukia doesn't know what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disquiet

"It's been such a long time, Asano-kun!" Rukia twitters with a curtsy. "Please make yourself at home!"

"Kuchiki-san, as beautiful as ever!" Asano declares passionately, kicking off his shoes haphazardly. "When will you leave that ungrateful jerk and come live with me?"

"Oh, I'm so embarrassed, Asano-kun!"

"Please stop," Ichigo interrupts them from the kitchen, looking pained. "The two of you are giving me the creeps."

"Oh, so mean, Kurosaki-kun!" Rukia says indignantly, putting a hand to her chest in shock. "Don't worry, Asano-kun, he doesn't mean it!"

"Like hell I do," Ichigo grouses and then scowls more. "Is that sake?"

"The finest, straight from my sister's supply!" Asano says with an incorrigible grin, holding up several loaded plastic bags. "And don't look like that, Ichigo. No party's a party without alcohol."

"Are you sure it's okay?" Rukia says, putting on a delicate worried face. "We're all still underage..."

"Don't worry, Kuchiki-san, I'll protect you from Ichigo's unwanted advanc-"

"OI!"

Sado, Ishida, Inoue, Kojima and Arisawa all slowly trickle inside and Rukia pastes on her best fake smile and focuses on making the most of their rare free time together.

For a while it seems to work. Asano and Inoue sing embarrassingly loud karaoke while Ishida and Kojima make sarcastic remarks and Sado shakes in silent amusement. Ichigo and Arisawa argue loudly over which martial arts movie to watch until Rukia elbows them both out of the way and picks an embarrassing rom-com that has the entire room except Inoue groaning in seconds. Alcohol is consumed, Inoue's home-cooked food is passed around to nearly everyone's trepidation, and Asano unilaterally makes a fool of himself. (No one is surprised.)

It's great, perfect even, until about two o'clock in the morning when Rukia goes to bring everyone's dishes into the tiny kitchen and comes back to find that Ichigo has put his fist through the wall next to the couch and has gone for a walk to cool off.

No one is saying anything, but they all turn to look at her when she enters the room and Rukia can't stand it. She takes three large steps into the bathroom, away from the horrifying silence, its weight pressing down on her more than even Aizen's reiatsu, and throws up her dinner into the toilet.

She kicks the door closed before anyone can come in after her to make sure she's okay and stifles a sob in her hand.

It's the helplessness that's killing her, as much as it's killing Ichigo. There's absolutely nothing she can _do_ , no way she can change it or make things any better for it. How long, she finds herself wondering, how long do they have until Ichigo does something truly irreparable?

"Dammit," she whispers, wiping her mouth.

She closes her eyes and stand with difficulty, flushing the toilet and moving over to the sink to wash out her mouth.

"Dammit," Rukia says again, head bowed over the sink and for a few seconds she actually thinks she's going to cry. It's ridiculous, to cry over something so... _non-life threatening_. She's been in far worse situations than this, _they've_ been in far worse situations, so why does this _hurt_ so much?

For a while she just stands there and breathes, staring down into the cracked sink, but it doesn't seem to help. At the sound of voices beyond the door, Rukia looks up at the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet. She stares at her pale reflection for less than a second before she draws back her fist and smashes it clean through without consciously deciding to.

Blood running down her hand, Rukia doesn't even bother to try and explain when the door opens. She just closes her eyes and waits for the impending freakout.

"You're bleeding," Asano says quietly.

Rukia opens her eyes and turns towards him, then looks down at her hand, slowly dripping blood onto the tile floor.

"Yes," she answers succinctly. "I am."

"Jeez, you and Ichigo are so alike," Asano says in exasperation, leaning against the door frame. "Always punching things."

For whatever reason, this offhand comparison makes Rukia's throat tighten and her chest twinge painfully. She opens her mouth to retort, but stops at the last second at the complete lack of humor in his eyes.

"Tell him I did it," Asano says.

Rukia stares, unsure if she heard right. "I do not think-"

"We've all had a couple drinks," Asano interrupts her, a sad sort of smile that she's never seen him wear before on his face. "Me more than the rest of you. He'll believe you if you tell him I did it."

"Asano, that is not-"

"Tell him I did it, Kuchiki-san," Asano says firmly, face almost unrecognizable in his seriousness. "Just...please."

Rukia doesn't know what to say, so she turns on the sink and sticks her bleeding hand under the water.

"Alright," she says finally over the sound of the faucet, staring at the bloody water swirling down the drain instead of Asano. "But I do not understand why."

Asano gives an abortive shrug against the door frame. "I've been breaking Ichigo's shit since we were fifteen. It's tradition by now."

The utter ridiculousness of _Asano_ claiming a significant destructive influence on Ichigo's life makes Rukia want to be sick all over again. Because she knows who's fault this whole thing really is, as hard as she tries not to think on it. If it were not for her, Ichigo would probably be the average carefree university student right now, or as average as one could be with the ability to see ghosts. There would be no scars on his chest from Aizen's first attack, no waking up in the middle of the night gasping for breath and grabbing for a sword that isn't there, no silent longing for power and responsibilities that he should have never had to bear in the first place. The fact that Ichigo regrets nothing only makes her feel worse.

Rukia turns off the faucet and crouches down to carefully pick up the shards of mirror from the floor and inside the sink.

"You need a bandage?" Asano asks, with a calmness that Rukia envies.

"Yes," Rukia says quietly, suddenly indescribably grateful that it was him and not any of the others that came after her. "That would be most helpful."

Asano leaves the room, closing the door behind him so she does not have to answer for her behavior to any of the others, at least for a little while. Rukia stares blankly at the broken mirror until her eyesight blurs so much that she can no longer make it out.

By the time Rukia wraps up her hand and cleans up the bathroom as best as she can, the shock of the night's events seems to have mostly worn off. Inoue keeps giving her worried looks and the rest of them are certainly tense, but at least no one is _talking_ about it. An awkward silence follows after Ichigo returns, looking not at all pleased to see them all still there and heads immediately to his room without a word, and everyone loudly agrees when Sado suggests they turn in for the night. Rukia offers Arisawa and Inoue the use of her bed, while Asano, Kojima, and Sado take the floor in front of the television and the couch.

After changing into her pajamas (which she should probably give back to Ichigo's little sister at some point,) Rukia steels herself and pushes open Ichigo's door.

The lights are off, but Rukia can make out the shape of Ichigo sullenly buried under the covers in his bed. For a second she wavers, but reminds herself that she is the only one who can do this. Ichigo would probably throw anyone else out and someone has to do damage control.

"Oi, Ichigo," she says, shutting the door behind her and making toward the bed. "Move over."

Ichigo's room is small, and mostly devoid off decoration, even the band posters he'd had in his room at home, but in the few steps between the door and the bed, Rukia almost trips over a pair of his jeans and two t-shirts crumpled on the floorboards. She remembers a time when Ichigo was almost unnaturally clean, but then again she also remembers a time when he could shatter a mountain into pieces with one swing of his blade.

"What?" he grumbles, voice muffled against the pillow. "Fuck off."

"Inoue and Arisawa are occupying my bed," Rukia informs him, coming to stand right next to the mattress, arms crossed over her chest. "And I refuse to sleep on the floor in my own house."

Ichigo lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Fine," he groans and rolls over onto his back. "I don't know why I'm surprised. You steal my food, you steal my closet, why not steal my bed too?"

He pulls back the comforter and Rukia kicks off her slippers, sliding under the covers beside him.

"You're not getting my pillow too," Ichigo says grumpily up to the ceiling.

Rukia rolls her eyes. "I am quite comfortable without one, thank you very much."

She's not lying; she grew up in the 78th District of the Rukongai after all, and pillows have always seemed to be a tad excessive to her. Her head against Ichigo's mattress, she turns on her side and simply watches him breathe for a few quiet moments, arms crossed under his head, eyes closed.

"How is your hand?" she asks quietly, and as she says it she tucks her own under the blankets so he won't see the bandage.

His shoulder is a mere centimeter from her head on the mattress and she can feel him tense quite clearly.

"Don't," he mutters, opening his eyes to look up at the ceiling again. "Just drop it, Rukia."

"You do not have to do this, you know," she says, words bubbling out of her mouth before she has the chance to censor herself, fingers digging into the sheets. "You can talk to me-you do not have to keep everything to yourself. I-you just never _say_ anyt-"

"Because I can't," Ichigo says harshly, eyes still glued to the ceiling, jaw clenched tightly. "I can't, Rukia. Every time I try it's like I'm going to vomit. So. I don't. I just don't. It's better that way."

"For who?" Rukia mutters under her breath before she can stop herself.

Ichigo's shoulder stiffens even further next to her head and for a second Rukia thinks he's going to start yelling, but after a moment he relaxes.

"You worry too much, Rukia," he sighs, rubbing his eyes sleepily with one of his hands. "I'm fine, really."

He turns over on his side to look at her exasperatedly and it's the half-smile on his face that makes Rukia disbelieve him more than she's disbelieved anything in her long life.

"I-" she starts, but Ichigo rolls his eyes and turns onto his stomach.

"Just go to sleep, bitch," he mutters and slings a casual arm over her shoulders, warm against her skin even through two layers of fabric. "We're going to need it to clean up properly tomorrow. Can you believe Keigo actually broke the fucking bathroom mirror?"

Rukia closes her eyes and presses her face further into the mattress. She breathes in Ichigo's scent and tries very hard to leave her worries behind and go to sleep.

It doesn't work.

**Author's Note:**

> And the emo continues! As it will next week too, when we finally get to Ichigo. Please review!


End file.
